


Gallavich n shit

by obiole



Category: gallavich - Fandom
Genre: M/M, but also some deep shit, get ya in the feels, hella sex, let’s have a good time boys, lots ‘o’ fuckin’, some gay shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-22 20:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obiole/pseuds/obiole
Summary: this is actually a part one of i don’t fucking know how many, but i hope y’all like it anyway





	1. Chapter 1

i’ll update whenever i get a new idea, but feel free to leave a suggestion or request - i’m very open to new ideas


	2. Wrapping

“How the fuck do you wrap a fucking present?” Mickey stormed into the Gallagher kitchen, setting a bag with a roll of holiday wrapping paper sticking out. Fiona was wiping down the countertop and Lip sat at the table with his college texts. both looked up at Mickey.

“You don’t know how to wrap?” Lip questioned.

“Don’t know if you ever met my family, but those fucks never gave each other shit.”

“So what are you wrapping?” 

“Yeah, and for who?” Fiona hopped into the conversation.

“Ian, i got him some shit, is that so bad.” 

Fiona smiled and shook her head. “No, not at all. Here, let me see.” She pulled a chair out from the table and sat herself, opening the bag after setting the paper on the table. 

“A shirt, okay.. Two packs of cigarettes, nice.. and.. handcuffs..” Fi and Lip exchanged looks before she continued. “All right, well, wrap the cigarettes and cuffs inside the shirt, first, then wrap that in the paper.” she miles up at Mickey, who gave her a blank stare. like he knew what the fuck he was doing.

“Like i know what the fuck i’m doin’?” 

“Mickey, it’s really simple. Sit.” With a sigh, he sat himself in a chair at the end of the table and watched as Fiona put the two smaller items in the middle of the shirt. She put the shirt on Mickey’s hands and opened the wrapping paper, spreading enough across the table. “Okay, so you need to put down enough for it to be able to go over the shirt twice, then you cut, fold, and stick. Not that hard.”

Mickey scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“What? Oh, no, no i'm not doing this. Ian is your boyfriend, you can do the wrapping.” She tapped the table before swiftly moving out of the seat, disappearing up the stairs. Mick turned to Lip, who shook his head and stuck his nose back into the books.

Mickey took a deep, frustrated breath and set the shirt on the rolled out sheet. It took him a minute to figure out what he was supposed to do, which still left him fairly lost as he tried various ways to fold the paper over the cloth. Lip looked up without moving his head, observing Mickey progressively struggle. After just a few minutes of anything but success, Mickey slammed his hands on the table, startling Lip slightly. 

“Hey, uh, why don’t you just center the shirt on the paper, fold one side, tape it, and repeat with the other sides.”

Mickey looked from the mess of paper, to Lip, and back. “Smartass.” He remarked as he began following Lip’s directions. 

It took him a few minutes, but Mickey succeeded. Lip barely smiled and nodded, directing his nose back to his books.

“Thanks.” Mickey said. Lip, taken aback by Mickey’s gratitude, looked up and nodded once. 

“Yeah, uh, no- no problem.”

“Douchebag.” Mickey said as he swiftly stood and swiped the amateurly wrapped present, walking it over to the christmas tree and tenderly setting it down. He could only hope Ian liked what little Mickey could scrounge up. 

Turning on his heels, Mick headed upstairs to Ian’s room, undressed for the most part, and laid in the bed, clutching the sheets to his cheeks, burying his nose in the pillow, delving himself in the scent of Ian. 

— 

“it’s fucking christmaaas!!!” A sharp voice whispered in his ear, shaking his shoulder.

“Make another fucking sound i’ll rip your god damn throat out with my teeth.”

“come on, get up, Mick!”

“Fuck off, Ian.” Mickey moved his head to face the wall, away from Ian. That, alone, wouldn’t stop Ian from getting his boyfriend out of bed. He grabbed Mickey by the ankles and stepped back, dragging him out of bed.

“Shit!” Mickey exclaimed, and Ian laughed. He dragged Mickey halfway down the stairs before he got to his feet and slammed Ian against the wall. The redhead smiled victoriously as he stared into Mickey’s eyes, knowing he’d won, no matter how unpleasant Mickey’s attitude may have been. Ian leaned down and kissed Mickey, who was too irresistible was his arm against Ian’s chest. 

They pulled apart after a moment, mickey’s paranoia of someone seeing him - seeing them. He lowered his arm and nodded his head towards the bottom of the steps. 

“Come on.” 

Ian smiled and followed behind Mickey until the got to the living room. Ian sat at one end of the sofa and mickey sat on that arm, leaning on the head of the couch behind ian’s head. They watched as the kids opened their few presents first, Lip got one from Fiona, Debbie gave Fiona something she made at school, Ian gave carl a paintball gun that he stole, and, finally, there was one last present under the tree. Debbie and Carl wanted to fight over who got it, but Lip interjected. 

“I don’t think that’s for either of you.” They whined in response. Lip looked at Mickey, expecting him to get up. Instead, Mickey nudged Ian’s shoulder.

“What?” Ian asked.

“Don’t be stupid, get up and get the gift.” Ian smiled and hopped up, taking the gift from under the branches. 

“This from you?” He asked Mickey, who only raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Ian tore the paper with care, examining the messy wrapping and tons of tape. When he broke through all the layers, he felt the cloth of the shirt, followed by something hard. Everyone was watching, which made Mickey a bit nervous. The paper, by this point, was all on the floor while Mickey’s eyes were fixed on Ian’s own. 

The redhead first looked at what was inside the shirt, and when he pulled out the smokes and handcuffs, he was definitely taken aback.

“Cuffs?”

“Fucking sick.” Carl said, of course not knowing the real reason why Mickey got his boyfriend handcuffs.

“Just-“ Mickey tried to say, but was cut off by Fiona rounding the kids up, asking if they could help with breakfast, leaving just the pair on the sofa in the living room. 

“Cuffs!” Ian said, laughing. 

“And smokes, assface,” Mickey said.

“You could put your ass on my face,” Ian teased.

“Yeah fucking right. You like the shirt?” 

Ian put the other things aside and held up the shirt - a disfigured, contorted Mickey Mouse on the front.

“Wow. That’s great, Mick. Thank you.” He pulled Mickey down and their lips met. Left breathless, Mickey looked at Ian as the redhead stood. “Grab a coat, follow me.” 

Mickey did so, slipped on his boots and trailed Ian out back. The cold hit like a truck, making Mickey tense and tighten his coat around his shoulders. 

Ian was standing in front of the van, spinning the handcuffs around on his fingers, a smirk on his face. Mickey knee that face - he loved that face. That face meant was getting dick. 

“Merry Christmas, Mick.” Ian said.

“Fuck yeah.” Mickey walked up to Ian, pressed is lips and body against him, pushing Ian flush against the vans back doors. A gust of wind blew against them, cutting their kissing short.

“Shit!” Mickey clutched Ian. “Freezing my fucking nuts off!”

“Guess is better warm them up then, huh?”

With a grin and a laugh, Mickey opened one of the doors. “Get in the goddamn van and fuck me already.” Ian hopped in first, followed by an eager Mickey. 

In one swift motion, Ian took Mickey’s right hand, put one cuff on it and hooked the other end on a safety grip at the top of the van.

“Ian! The fu-“ The redhead pulled Mickey into a long, slow kiss, a hand on his lower back and the other gripping the inside of his thigh. Mickey’s breath caught when he felt Ian’s fingers on his dick. Ian moved his palm over the bulge in Mickey’s pants; their breathing became heavy and hot as the redhead teased Mickey.

“Ride me?” Ian asked, slipping his cold fingers under the layers of Mickey’s clothes. 

“Sure, yeah, just-“

Ian suddenly pulled Mickey’s pants off, tossing them upfront, and did the same with his own. Shirts were kept on since the heater hadn’t warmed up the van just yet. Mickey watched as Ian applied a conservative amount of lube to his tip before reaching behind Mickey, leaving the rest around his hole. 

“Ready?” Ian asked. Mickey nodded quickly, his heart racing, pounding in his chest, eager to get this going. Mick lifted himself, allowing Ian to scoot down just a few inches, before he lowered himself on the redheads cock. 

For the first time since they started hooking up, Mick let out an audible moan, usually to embarrassed, or too worried trying to protect his masculinity. Ian grinned softly, glad to see Mick express himself. The redhead gripped Mickey’s ass, helping him build momentum and rhythm of his hips. Mickey took his shirt off after finally warming up for the most part. 

Their breathing and symphonies of sounds were growing louder, quicker, and more in sync the longer they’d hold out, before Mickey couldn’t take Ian hitting his prostate any longer and came on his own stomach with a loud and scattered moan. He continued riding Ian until he came, himself. For that reason, and the fact he was still cuffed to the safety grip above. He wouldn’t have to wait too long for Ian, who set Mickey free as soon as he was finished. He hadn’t pulled out of Mickey until they were flipped, the bottom actually being on the bottom, his back against the warmth of the blanket Ian previously was. The redhead cleaned Mickey’s sticky skin with his tongue as he recuperated, in which the bottom couldn’t help but smile, his hand reaching down to pet and play with Ian’s hair. 

“Come here.” Mickey breathed, his fingertips bringing Ian’s mouth up to his. He always tried to envelop himself with Ian - his smell, his warmth, his radiance and body- he could never get enough, he never had enough. 

Ian fell next to Mickey, got comfortable, and pulled him closer before grabbing some blankets and draping it over their cooling bodies. Mick looked around for a pack of smokes but found none, and just as he went to complain, Ian shut him up by sticking one between his reddened lips and lighting it. 

“Thanks.” Mickey said after a couple drags. He had his eyes closed while Ian’s were outlining every feature of his face. Mickey held the cigarette out to pass to Ian, but after a few seconds of him not taking, he turned his head to face the redhead, seeing those pale green eyes staring right back at him with all the innocence in the world. Mickey’s features softened while he examined the same way Ian was to him. Without breaking his gaze away, Mick brought the burning cigarette to his lips to treat a process that had been second nature for as long as he could remember. 

Finally, Ian took the cigarette from Mickey and finished it. When it was gone, he tossed it upfront to land somewhere unbeknownst to them at the moment. Mickey turned to lay on his stomach, one half of his torso over Ian’s. They relaxed like this for a while, not troubled with keeping the time.


	3. Get a shower

“He’s not getting up!” Debbie said as she stomped down the steps. Fiona sighed and shook her head, cleaning the kitchen area of breakfast remnants. 

“Well? What are we gonna do?” Debbie said again, standing at the end of the counter. Fiona shrugged, ran her hand over her tied up hair and looked at the concerned girl.

“I-I-I don’t know, Deb’s, we’ll.. probably just have to wait for Mickey to get back.”

“How long will that be?”

“I hope not too long. Said he wouldn’t be.”

Debbie looked defeated for a moment as they ran out of resolutions for their brother. “And you’re sure you can’t do anything for him?”

“Debbie, he won’t listen to me because of the meds. Lip is the only other person who could help besides Mickey - and he’s at college right now, so..” Debbie nodded. Fiona opened her arms for the young girl and wrapped them around her shoulders, rubbing her back softly. 

-

Not even an hour later Mickey walked through the back door, Fiona immediately bringing him up to speed with Ian’s situation. He nodded and headed up stairs, cursing, concerned. When he got to the doorway and saw Ian on his bed, his heart sank further than when Fiona explained it to him. 

“Christ.. sake, Ian..” His coat came off, landed on the floor and he went to the side of the bed. He put a hand on Ian’s shoulder, moved it up to his red, grimy hair and used his thumb to rub it. 

“Ian, come on,” his voice softened tremendously as he got closer, squatting at the bedside. Mickey rested his head against Ian’s warm back, able to hear his breathing, and whatever was going on inside of him. 

“Ian, come on, y.. you need to shower. You smell, and i can’t be in bed with you when you fucking smell.”

“You don’t like how i smell.” Ian said in his monotonous voice.

“Didn’t say that.”

Silence settled before Ian tried to shake Mickey off. “Go away, Mickey..”

“No, you know i'm not gonna. Move.”

“No.”

“Move!”

“No, Mick, go away.” Ian fought both exhaustion and Mickey’s efforts, either to no avail. Mickey lifted Ian under his arm and hip, moving his closer to the wall and making some room for himself. Mickey climbed up behind Ian, arms around his chest and chin resting between his shoulder and neck. 

“Mickey..” He only held him closer, tighter, and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t deny how he was fond of Ian’s natural smell, but after five days, i mean, a guys gotta draw a line somewhere for something. Mickey’s rough hands went under the covers before under the fabric of Ian’s sleeveless shirt - you know, maybe it was Mickeys shirt, not like it matters, though. Ian’s skin was hot to the touch, from being under the heavy covers all day, Mickey figured t couldn’t be too pleasant of a feeling.

“Ain’t you hot? You’ve gotta get cooled down, Ian,” Mickey concerned. Ian shook his head, burying it further into the pillow. Mickey sighed, using his thumb to run messy shapes that weren’t actually shapes over Ian’s skin. He hesitated a moment before putting his lips on Ian’s neck, barely moving them in a kissing motion. Mickey’s other arm was under Ian, his hand found one of the redhead’s hands and gently held it. 

When, he didn’t know, but at some point Mickey and Ian both fell asleep. Mickey woke later, must’ve been a few hours, Ian was already awake, not sure for how long, though. 

Mickey rubbed Ian’s chest after stretching. “Hey.. You okay?” No response. “Ian?” Nothing. “Guess i didn’t mention i’d be in the shower, too, huh. Hmm. Oh well, that’s too bad.” 

Ian remained silent, though only for a moment, for he knew what game Mickey was playing. He’d fallen for it, nonetheless. He sighed and rolled himself to face a faintly smiling Mickey. Ian rolled his eyes, Mickey knew he had won. 

Mickey stood and took Ian’s hand, waiting for him to stand, and guided him to the bathroom only feet away. Carl stood in front of the mirror, flexing the muscles he doesn’t have. 

“Get the fuck out.” Mickey said, pointing his thumb behind him. Carl scoffed and walked out, leaving the two by themselves. Ian had a mostly blank expression as Mickey walked around him to shut the door, before he returned to stand in front the redhead. 

“Shirt, pants, lets go.” Mickey directed. Ian ignored, he only stared into Mickey’s pale eyes. “Ian.. I’m not..” A second later Mickey got closer and undressed Ian, since he knew the man wouldn’t do it himself. “Pain in my ass, you know that.” Ian tried to smile at that affectionate remark. 

Mickey turned in the water and hastily undressed himself, then held his hand out for Ian. The redhead took up the offer and followed Mickey under the running water. 

“This don’t mean I’m.. i’m washing you, alright? do it your-fucking-self.” Ian’s eyes lowered as the water continued to run down his face. Mickey’s face softened while he realized Ian was being difficult on purpose, he’d only forgot to take his meds for a few days. Mickey reached behind Ian, grabbing the soap bar. He slowly motioned his hand in large spirals over Ian’s chest, abdomen, shoulders, turned him about and continued to clean his whole back. Next, he took shampoo and scrubbed it into the darkened red on Ian’s head. He had to reach to do it, but it got done.

Ian tilted his head back, to let the shampoo rinse out slowly, and closed his eyes. Mickey’s eyes flickered up, down, back up Ian’s whole body. He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t resist. He couldn’t hold himself back. So as soon as either knew it, Mickey had closed the gap, pressed himself against Ian, hands brushed red strands back. He knew Ian wasn’t feeling too hot, wasn’t quite himself, and that was okay, it only made Mickey worry more. 

Just as Mickey felt like pulling away, felt like giving up on an unresponsive Ian for the moment, a firm hand pulled him closer, if it was possible. Mickey moaned, rubbing his body against Ian’s, a hand grasping the redhead’s ass. The hot water against Mickey’s back burned like hell, and the friction growing between the two surely wasn’t making anything better; he lowered himself, kissing Ian’s body as he went. Ian needed help to get to where he needed to be, and Mickey’s mouth surely wasn’t complaining about helping out. His lips would give the head most of the attention, whereas his thick fingers worked around the shaft, up and down, in sync with his rotating around the tip. 

Slowly, and with maximum effort put forth, Mickey had success in getting Ian most of the way erect. Growing impatient, Ian ripped Mickey’s lips from his dick, leaned down, and kissed him, bringing him up to his feet. Mickey pushed on Ian’s shoulders, making his back hit the wall, which the redhead responded to by flipping their positions, leaving Mick against the wall instead. Mickey breathily laughed, turned on turned on beyond comprehension by the show of dominance. He turned himself around and spread his legs apart for Ian, who, with zero hesitation, pressed into his counterpart. Mickey curse and reached back for anything, really; his fingers found the soap rack and he held on as tight as he could. 

BANG !! BANG !! BANG

Both men groaned, just as aggravated as the person pounding on the door while Ian’s trying to pound into his boyfriend.

“The fuck you want?” Mickey blurted.

“Water isn’t free! Quit fucking and get out!” Fiona yelled. Both rolled their eyes and finished quickly, for the sake of being rushed to. 

Mickey shut the water off and grabbed two towels, tossing one to Ian. When they got back to the room they had gotten lucky, seeing Carl wasn’t in sight. Ian was searching through his drawer of shirts when Mickey put his hand on the side of his face, turning his head until their lips met. He left Ian breathless when he pulled away, that look in his blue eyes he only gave the carrot top, and that fucking smirk. 

“you can stay in bed - i’ll bring you up somethin’ to eat.”


	4. 3 years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is actually a part one of i don’t fucking know how many, but i hope y’all like it anyway

It had been almost three years since Mickey broke out of prison and Ian set off to Mexico with him. Obviously he didn’t go through with it, and made the trip all the way back up to Chicago. A lot had changed, but a lot had remained the same.

Ian was prospering at his job as an EMT, rejecting promotions on the sole reason of wanting to remain in Chicago with his family. 

Trevor had gotten an offer, double the pay and a secured living space, but it was based in Maine. Ian couldn’t bring himself to leave Chicago, or even attempt something like he did with Mickey. The two parted ways, breaking each other’s heart. Was there even a way to break a heart that had already even broken by someone else? Ian could answer this - absolutely. 

Ian didn’t leave his bed for days. Mickey was usually the one to bring him to his feet, but that was years ago. Trevor sometimes helped the redhead recuperate. But, now, there was no one. Not a single person knew how to help without the use of medication. 

Eventually Ian had to make a choice - keep his good paying, stable job, or lose it and struggle to come back from the loss. So, he got up on a gloomy Wednesday, got dressed, ate lightly and headed out the door. It was a long day, tough for Ian to truck through, his feet dragging the whole way. 

Ian returned to an empty house - it was quarter passed one, so it was understandable that everyone was out doing their own things. He let out a deep breath, hung his coat up and flopped back on the couch. His eyes burned so he rubbed them in an attempt to appease them, to no avail. 

Ian relaxed all of his muscles, his whole body felt heavy, too heavy to lift, while feeling weightless at the same time. With his eyes closed and arms at his side, Ian fell victim to a restful moment of sleep. He was, however, jostled awake when he heard a door close to his left. 

How much time had passed, he wasn’t sure of, but it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes. Rubbing his eyes awake, Ian turned his head to the right and was so stunned that he rubbed his eyes again to make sure he was seeing right. 

“Holy shit..” Ian breathed. There he stood, in the front doorway. “Mickey? the.. what the fuck?”

“Yeah, glad to see you, too.” A cleanly cut Mickey said. He was dressed nicely, adorned with a watch and other various, expensive, accessories. Suddenly, Ian stood for the couch to face Mickey.

“What the FUCK are you doing here?” Ian barked defensively, ready to pin Mickey against something and beat the shit out of him. 

“Damn, Gallagher, I’d thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“Happy? You.. You broke out of prison, and you’ve been in god damn MEXICO for three fucking years, and you think i’d be happy to see you?”

Mickey did a mix of a shrug and nod, but kept his eyes to the floor. This wasn’t how he expected this to go.

“What, you think i’d just jump into your arms? Ride into the fucking sunset? Three fucking years. Shit has changed, Mick. I cant keep this shit up.”

“Last thing you said to me was.. ‘i love you’.”

“Yeah? You said ‘fuck you’. so guess what, Mick. Fuck. You.”

Something in Mickey’s eyes flickered, like a switch, he broke. “I didn’t fucking ask for this!” He yelled in Ian’s face. “But every time I fucking look at you, I fall in love again.”

“Oh, bullshit.” Ian dragged out, shifting his footing in disbelief. 

“Bullshit? You’re calling bullshit? Fine. Fine- you know what? Fuck you, Gallagher. Fuck you, Ian.” Mickey turned to storm out of the house, Ian followed until he got to the door. Only when Mickey reached the gateway did he turn around, arms and eyebrows up. “I got fucking bailed out, by the way.” With that, he was gone down the street, leaving Ian shocked, in a state of regret.

“Fuck..” Ian breathed, slamming the door shut to release some stress. it didn’t work. 

That night, Ian spent hours in bed. He didn’t come down for dinner, and when asked what the hell was up, he never mentioned Mickey. Ian couldn’t sleep. He made it to half past 2am before he got sick of just laying there. Ian got dressed, grabbed a few bucks and walked out, headed for the nearest convenient store - he was low on smokes. 

Who does Mickey think he is, anyway? He can’t just break out of prison, waltz in like he owns Ian, waltz right back out - for three years, in fact - then just appear again? Like nothing has happened? And what did Mickey expect for Ian to say? See, now Ian started to doubt himself, kick himself in the ass, because maybe he was a total ass to Mickey earlier. Anyways, it was a little late. Maybe Mickey was around town, maybe they’d run into each other. 

“What’d’ya want, kid?” A rough, gasping voice asked from behind the counter. Ian hadn’t realized he had walked all the way to the store. Gathering himself, he asked for a pack of cigarettes, and paid. 

Or maybe Ian would just run after Mickey.

It wasn’t two seconds later before his feet were hitting the ground, his pace growing faster and faster as he went, the bone chilling wind not able to hold his fire back. the first - and only - place he could have gone, he went, he was there in less than fifteen minutes. The Milkovich house. 

Ian’s fist pounded against the old wooden door of the Milkovich house, he didn’t stop until twenty minutes passed and he was completely exhausted. He turned, let his back hit the door and eased himself down until he was sat on the porch, one leg bent, the other extended out. He felt he deserved at least one smoke for his efforts. 

“Fuck..” he cursed, hitting his head back against the wood. As much as he wanted to ask himself why he was doing this - chasing after Mickey - ultimately, he knew why. He wouldn’t say it or admit it, but he, and everyone, knew why Ian chased after Mickey. The same reason Mickey did the same for Ian, on multiple occasions. 

Ian shut his eyes, blowing the smoke into the frigid air. He couldn’t feel his fingertips, barely, so he figured he might as well head back home. He pushed himself to his feet and tightened his coat around himself. Knowing the way home almost by heart meant he didn’t have to bring his eyes up until there came a turn or he heard something, which wasn’t often, for either. 

The redhead had turned on to his side of the street, but was still a ways away from the Gallagher house. Closer to the residence, walking towards him, was another person. Since it was dark out, he couldn’t make out who the figure was. As they got closer, though, Ian could finally see the very familiar features.

“Mickey?” He said hopefully. They slowed to a stop. “Mick is that you?” The man ahead sniffled once and nodded, choking out some sort of ‘yeah’.

Ian walked up to him and looked close at his face, littered with bruises and cuts - it hadn’t been earlier. Ian’s heart immediately dropped to the pit of his stomach. 

“Who did this, Mickey? Who fucking did this to you?” Mickey kept quiet and pulled away. “Mickey, please..” Ian almost begged. 

Mickey looked like he was two seconds away from collapsing, the mixture of heavy drinking, heavy smoking and the fact he’s been brutally beaten all factoring towards his weak knees. Ian grabbed his arm and ducked under to support him. 

“Come on, i’ll clean you up.” Mickey didn’t protest. He couldn’t, anyway. 

Ian took his keys out, found the right one and unlocked the back door. He sat Mickey in one of the table chairs, not wanting to risk him falling from a stool. Mickey relaxed, his head rolled back and he groaned softly. 

“God, Mick..” Ian sympathized while he wet a rag with warm water before going up to Mickey to dab at and wipe his face of dried blood. He pulled out another chair and scooted it closer to a dazed Mickey, who had found one of Ian’s hand and squeezed it, holding to it like a lifeline. 

Ian wouldn’t push the man further, but it wasn’t like he was fit enough to think, let alone talk. He still wanted to know - he needed to know. Whoever the fuck it is that bet Mickey like that would get it twice as bad from Ian. 

While Ian got himself heated and worked up, he didn’t realize Mickey had been softly saying his name. 

“Yeah, Mick?” He inches closer, lowering the damp, bloodied cloth. Mick put his hand on the side of Ian’s face. His thumb smoothed over Ian’s cool cheek, and a smile grew on his lips. He was touching Ian. Affectionately touching Ian. For the first time in years. He counted every second, every minute, every hour, every day, until it got to weeks, then months. Suddenly, when it got to years, Mickey knew he had to do something before it was too late to do anything. 

“Ian..” Mickey could barely keep his eyes open, but he tried, he really did, to not break their gaze. Ian figured he was tired, and there was no time to head to the Milkovich house, especially with Mickey in the state he’s in. 

The redhead got up, leaned down and helped Mickey to his feet. They headed up stairs, barely making it to the top before Mickey’s feet gave way, causing Ian to stumble. He cursed quietly while he lifted Mickey up. 

“Just a few more feet, come on.” He encouraged the inebriated man. Somehow, it worked, and they made it to the bed, where Ian took Mickey’s shoes, jeans and coat off. It was almost instantaneous that Mickey fell asleep as soon as he was parallel with the bed. With a sigh, he undressed himself, emptying his pockets into his drawer. He sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his teary eyes. Ian wasn’t sure what to think of anything anymore. 

It mattered little at the moment - he needed sleep before his loud family started being loud. Mickey’s was on his side and close enough to the wall that, with a few rearrangements, he could squeeze in. As long as he held Mickey, he was comfortable, and fell asleep just as quick as his love.


	5. 3 years, p2/2

Carl got up that morning like every morning - except when he jumped down from the top bunk, he saw the two men in his brothers bed. When he eventually got downstairs, he mentioned it to Fiona.

“I think Mickey’s in Ian’s bed.” Carl stated groggily, opening the fridge to grab something. Fiona whipped around. 

“Mickey? Mickey Milkovich? The one that broke out of fucking prison.”

Carl shrugged, not in the mood for Fiona’s yelling. 

“Ian!” She yelled, again, up the steps. A few moments passed before Ian was thumping down the steps, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

“What the fuck is Mickey doing here, Ian?” 

“Oh, he, uh.. He’s back.”

“Yeah, i fucking know, Carl saw him. He can’t stay here.”

“He’s out on bail, Fi.”

“So you just think you can bring him here? He still broke out of fucking prison, Ian!” Fiona was keeping her voice down so Mickey wouldn't hear, but she was still furious.

“Please, just let me work it out. I.. I found him outside last night, beaten and pissfaced. I’ve got to find who did it to him and figure shit out.” Ian turned and say at the table, a cup of coffee in hand. 

“I want him out of here, Ian. Tonight.” The redhead stared up at Fiona, brow furrowed and jaw locked. 

“No.” 

“What?” Fiona barked back.

“No.” Fiona scoffed. “I love him. Just like you loved Jimmy. I can’t let him go like that, i can’t just tell him to piss off.” 

“You think i wanted Jimmy to go? No, Ian, no. No, I needed him to go. For my sake.” 

“You didn’t even think of him? How he felt?”

“Do you think he thought of em when he got married to some bitch?”

“He came back, though.”

“After giving me an ultimatum to abandoned my family, yeah.” 

“But you loved him, Fi!”

“Ian..”

“Fiona, please..” Ian’s voice faltered. “Let me work this out with him.”

Fiona stared at her brother for just a minute, boiling and thinking about what’s best for everyone. “He pulls one shady move, he’s out and you are done with him.” She turned, grabbed a coat and stormed out of the house. 

Silence reigned for a few moments before Ian realized Carl was still sitting on one of the stools. 

“You love Mickey?” He asked, but he knew the answer. Ian didn’t make a sound, he didn’t even move. “Ever told him?” Ian glanced up at his little brother and barely nodded. 

\- - -

Ian sat on the edge of his bed, shaking his leg. He won’t lie, he didn’t know what to do and as far as family is concerned, he’s shit out of luck on getting their help. 

Ian heard some movement behind him, so he took a glance. He was met with pale blue eyes looking up at him through a blackened eye. 

“Hey.” Ian whispered, swiveling to lay and face Mickey, who gently smiled back. “You feelin any better?” Mickey nodded a few times before looking down i search of Ian’s hands. He took them and held them tightly, close to his chest. 

“They.. don’t want you here, but.. I won’t let you go.”

That could have brought tears to Mickey’s eyes, but he didn’t cry. Not in front of anyone, anyway, especially not Ian. He still had a reputation to uphold, he wasn’t about to go soft on the softie that set the bar. 

“I missed you.” Mick finally said. Ian nodded. He knew.

“What happened last night?” Ian asked, grazing his thumb over healing cuts on Mickey’s face, at which he winced. 

“Come on, I don’t-“

“Mickey.” Ian said sternly. Mickey sighed.

“It’s.. a long story, Ian.”

“So tell me.”

“Fine, fine. Not being with you, in Mexico, was driving me nuts. I couldn’t stand anything, ever noise, every person, drove me fucking mad. I was running low on money, too. i held up a few joints, but that didnt cut it. So.. s-so there was.. this guy, who saw me, i guess. He bought me lids of shit, he covered everything for me, as long as I..” He stuttered and faltered, old game something back. 

“I-I-I told him what was up with the whole prison thing. He lived in Arizona but was willing to pay my bail if i just turned myself in, i guess this guy like.. l-loved me, or some shit.” Ian didn’t like hearing that, but he let Mickey continue. He wanted to hear it all.

“So, we get back up here, i get tossed in the joint for a few days, he gets my bail and i got out. I am out.”

“How long ago was this? That you got out?”

“What’s today, thursday? Friday?”

“It’s thursday, yeah.”

“Okay, so Monday night.”

“What took you so long for getting here?”

“Jesus, Ian-“

“If this guy feels so strongly for you, why should i think you don’t feel the same way?”

“Because i got shitfaced monday night celebrating, slept all day tuesday, but i was here yesterday, the fuck? give me a break.” 

“Answer me, Mick, do you love him?”

“Ian, don’t-“

“‘Mickey!”

“No! No, god dammit, I don’t! Want me to fucking spell it out? I love you, you fuck!”

In one movement, Ian held the back of Mickey’s head and pushed him over so he was now hovering over him, and kissed him. It felt so good. Mickey on his lips, felt so. fucking. good. 

Short moans escaped between breaths and movements. Ian’s hands were on either side of Mickey’s face, shaking as they caressed. Mickey grabbed Ian’s wrists gently, and pushed his lips away since he couldn’t pull himself away.

“Jesus, Ian, what’s up with you?”

“I never thought I’d fucking see you again.” Ian was breathing sharply, his eyes looked wet, like he was on the cusp of tears. “When I saw you cross the border, i thought that was it. you were gone.”

Mickey wrapped his arms tightly around the redhead. he wanted to cry, too, but he told himself he needed to be strong, for Ian’s sake. His hand rubbed up and down the man’s body, held on tightly, he didn’t ever want to let go. after some time, Ian had calmed down and fell asleep in Mickey’s arms, but, since Mickey was pretty well rested, he couldn’t force himself to sleep. so he just held Ian, played with his hair, looked over every feature he had once memorized. After three chaotic years and not seeing him like this, yeah Mickey forgot some things. 

Behind Ian’s ear is a small scar. it wasn’t there before, but it was now, though it appeared to be old. It was nearing winter, so his freckles were starting to fade like he noticed they do. Ian also looked more fit, a lot more muscle than before. Mickey figured it was a perk of his job. 

Mickey spent all this time - maybe an hour and a half - just examining the few features of Ian that he could before the man woke with a deep breath and groggy moan. 

“Hey.” Mickey said, just as Ian did to him earlier. 

“Hey.” He said back, squinting as he looked outside to falling snow. The sky almost matched Mickey’s eyes, Ian noticed. 

“You hungry?” Mickey asked. the redhead nodded. They stood, dressed in cozy clothes, since the cold had been seeping into the house, and headed downstairs. Lip and Carl were sat at the table and Debbie was out in the living room with her toddler. When Lip looked up, he was shocked, to say the least.

“Oh, shit.” 

Mickey nodded as a sort of greeting to him. 

“Ian?” Lip asked, hoping for some explanation.

“I know, I know, but.. he’s gotten out on bail, and we just.. we gotta work something out. Give me a while, okay.”

“What about-“

“I already hashed it out with Fiona today.” 

Lip tapped a pencil in the table, shaking his head while redirecting his attention to the papers - likely bills - on the table. Ian quickly got some food made up and ushered Mickey back up to the room, where they stayed until Carl had to go to bed, that’s when they moved down to the living room and relaxed on the couch. Fiona didn’t come home, Ian assumed she was with her winter indulgence somewhere across town. 

When it had gotten late and the two drew to the conclusion that everyone had gone to sleep, they couldn’t keep themselves off of each other. Ian was below Mickey, who was pressing, rubbing, grinding himself against the redhead’s body, his tongue going as far as it could. 

Ian was ready to slide their clothes off when Mickey asked, “bathroom?” 

Ian pulled back, almost panting. “Seriously? Mick, no.. no one will see us. Please..” Mickey tore away from the advance. “Really, Mick? The first time in three years and you’re pulling this shit?” 

Ian scoffed, putting his hands on Mickey’s chest to push him away. At that moment, Mick knew he didn’t have any room to fuck this up. Mickey pressed Ian back down into the couch, kissing him like it was their last. He had gotten so rough with Ian that the toppled over off the sofa, the two of them landing on Mickey’s back, knowing the wind out of him. Ian wanted to check on him, asking if he was okay. Mickey’s response was grasping tufts if that damned red hair and pulling him closer. 

No attention was paid to the searing pain across Mickey’s chest, the bruises Ian wasn’t aware of reacting to his persistence. He hit his lip to fight the pain away; he wasn’t going to tell Ian and get him worked up again - at least not until afterward. 

The redhead moved down, bringing Mickey’s pants down to his ankles before enveloping his mouth around the bottom’s length. Mick’s head rolled from one ode to the other, a little, soft, relieving moan filling their ears. 

The two progressed slowly, until Mickey couldn’t handle the pace. “Ian..” No more needed to be said before the redhead kissed Mickey, simultaneously pushing his own pants down. He brought Mickey’s left leg up to rest on his shoulder and checked in with the man below him, if he was ready. Ian got a curse and mild threat if he didn’t just start already. 

The redhead’s size and length gave Mick quite a shock - the guy he had been living off of had barely anything to him. His tattooed fingers grabbed what little hair Ian had on his head. Ian rolled his hips, easing in and out of the gasping bottom, eyes glued to his face, morphing from one expression to another, again and again. 

Mickey wouldn’t ever hear it, but Ian thought he was beautiful. Broken, confused, definitely conflicted, but beautiful, all the same. He could see the effect he had on the other man, the intensity he allowed Mickey to feel. 

They finished closely together, cleaned up and got dressed, resuming their cuddling on the sofa. Mickey was flat on his back, head resting in the arm rest, while Ian, belly-down, laid on Mickey’s torso, his hands between his head and the other man’s chest.


	6. ideas?

anyone have any ideas? anything ~specific~they want to see? let me know, i’m happy to appease! 

\- charlie


End file.
